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The prodigal some

By BUDDY ROBERTS

Guest Columnist

There once was a nation that was a great kingdom and had lots of riches all about it. Some thought to themselves, “There is so much we possess, yet we have such great need, let’s ask a portion of our wealth and ‘invest’ so we can have more.” So a great portion of what had been Blessed to them was divided out. Those wanting more took the money and begin to spend it in a way that was most foreign to the way the kingdom had ever spent its money before.

Some spent the money in a most profligate way. Many thought it was “wild living” as people of debauched lifestyles were rewarded for their immorality. Those inclined towards laziness found they could exist at a minimum level while exerting no industry. Creative artists who could find no other support for their often avant-garde creations were lavished with great amounts of attention and financial support. People of good repute began to see that a great largesse was at hand and began to desire a portion for their interests. Research, products, building projects, educational efforts, museums, environmental concerns, subsidies and projects as only the creative abilities of the human mind can conceive, lined up to receive a share of the wealth of the “investments.”

Then a day of reckoning came. Unexpectedly, one of the “investments” suddenly began to crater. Some had seen it as a “special investment” that was a pet project. It once had gone so well. Some thought everyone might benefit from that particular “investment.” It had begun to be used by “supra-investors” seeking to reap extraordinary benefits from the project. Some unfortunately desired prerogative; immense cupidity ran amok in the “investment” from beginning to end. When its details came to light it was as smelly and dirty as a pig sty. Some things snowballed downhill Some were now desperate. Some had borrowed to the hilt of what was available to them. The “owner” of the pig sty began to say he could now do whatever he desired to them. He believed the borrower was enslaved to the lender. Some “investors” began to come to their senses. They smelled the stench and saw the muck of the place where they were standing.

They began to remember how they once had been Blessed. They remembered that place where they had once lived and that it was their home and the pig sty was not where they wanted to remain. “We want to go back home,” some said to themselves. And they set out to go back to where they had once been Blessed. And they rehearsed to themselves the confessions and hopes they wanted to express. “We have missed the target and we are no longer worthy of our Blessing.” “We are not deserving of any more Blessing, but we want to return to the place where we once knew goodness and light. At least some of us want to be at a place that smells better!” So they repeated their confessions and their hopes over and over again to themselves as they sought to return to that place where they had once been and received Blessing.

Some were still a long way off from that home of Blessing. When they returned, would there be any compassion for them? Will there be any forgiveness and restitution? Will their confession be accepted or rejected? Will they be reduced to a common place of existence rather than in a position of Blessing? Or, is there any chance that they will be more Blessed than ever before? May they be dressed with even more that prospers them rather than harms them? Will overflowing abundance and Blessedness accrue to them? Will the Blessed ethos of praise and honor return to the people of this land? Where once death was on the horizon will there now be hope for life and light? Will what was lost now be able to be found?

Back home there were others who wanted nothing more to change. The others wanted some “returning” to just stay away. After all what is “left” belongs to them! It is theirs and they should not have to share it. They have stayed the course and believed some who did the “investments” deserved what had happened to them. They have no compassion for those “sinners” whatsoever.

Time will tell.

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Buddy Roberts is the former pastor of Westminster Presbyterian Church in Columbia.